


Breath of Hope

by jedi_penguin



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-19
Updated: 2008-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1624877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedi_penguin/pseuds/jedi_penguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three love as hard as they can, but only two are loved back.  It is enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sandbar592 for the beta. You're awesome!
> 
> Written for Jij

 

 

I apologize for the lack of diacritics in names. My html skills are made of fail... :(

~

Even with all the hurts that orcs had laid upon the land, Brethil was beautiful in the spring. To the eye of its lord, Brandir son of Handir, it was the fairest place in Middle-Earth. The fact that he had never crossed the Sirion River or the Teiglin, nor had he ever ventured further north than the Old South Road altered his conviction not at all; no other lands held by Men could compare to the woods around his home.

And yet, the beauty of Brethil paled beside the fairness of its newest resident, in springtime or any other. Seeing Niniel running across a field towards him, Brandir thought his heart would burst from a surfeit of loveliness. Lame as he was, Brandir appreciated maidens who were fleet of foot, and none of the girls in the village ran half so well as Niniel. He never tired of watching her in flight. 

"Hail, Niniel," he greeted her. "You look merry today!"

"As indeed I am," she replied with a rare laugh. "Once again, Turambar has asked me to be his wife! And this time, I have consented."

Suddenly, Brandir's delight in the spring day evaporated as if it had never been. A shadow settled into his heart and he shivered despite the sun's warmth. He said nothing of his foreboding, but said instead, "I thought you agreed to wait, Niniel."

"I have waited!" she said impatiently. "It has been a year since you advised patience and I am no younger now than I was then. Am I Lady Haleth, that I should remain unwedded until I wither away and pass my life on to my brother's son? Even were I of her mettle, I have no nephew to follow after me. I have no kin at all save you, the brother of my heart and not of my blood. Why should I not then start a family of my own?"

Brandir was displeased to hear himself described as "brother," for the love he felt for her was not at all like the love that a man would give to his sister. Of this, however, he said no more than he had of his foreboding. "In courage and endurance, you are very like Haleth of old," he told her. "And like her, you are fair enough to take a husband if you want one, or to spurn all suitors should that be the desire of your heart. You need not fear remaining unwedded against your will! Nay, I speak rather of the perils of marrying **Turambar**."

"Peril?" She laughed heartily, like she had never done before save when in the company of her intended. "What peril? He is a fierce warrior and grim in his manner, but he is also kind and quick to pity any who are less fortunate than he. He is handsome and strong and loyal. Men respect him and orcs fear him. What maiden would not want to join the mighty House of Turambar, should the opportunity be offered to her? I may have been foolish enough to refuse once; I will not do so again."

"I gainsay none of those things, save one: there is no House of Turambar. He is of the House of Hador, which has long been under a dark cloud. More than that, he is the son of Hurin, no matter what name he gives to himself, and you should remember that."

"And what then?" Niniel demanded. "Do they not say that Hurin is steadfast, that he defies Morgoth even now? I should be proud to belong to a family such as that!"

Despite her fierce words, Niniel looked troubled and Brandir began to hope that he might sway her. "They do say that Hurin vexes Morgoth, but do you truly believe that the Enemy will not be revenged upon him ere the end? Dark is the doom laid upon Hurin's House, and I would not see you ensnared by it." 

It was the wrong thing to say. "Do you believe me to be craven?" she demanded. "Do I seem to you a maid who would give up love and life simply for the fear of what might be? Perhaps I should stay in my house all day lest I trip over a blade of grass and fall to my destruction!" 

Brandir sighed. "A man who steers clear of certain but avoidable doom is not craven, so why should a maid earn that title?"

Niniel's wrath disappeared as quickly as it had arrived and she suddenly looked ashamed. "I'm sorry, Brandir. That was unkind and undeserved. I know you speak only from your love for me, but truly, there is nothing to fear. A heavy doom lies upon Turin you say, and perhaps that is true. But I intend to marry **Turambar** , Master of Doom, and nothing ill shall befall us. I know it!"

In his heart, Brandir knew she was wrong. _"Turambar he names himself,"_ he said to himself. _"Turambar he claims to be, even though it is not possible for a mortal being to earn that title. None save the Maiar can ever truly Master their Dooms, and perhaps not even they. Should he convince her otherwise, they shall both come to grief."_

But of this, he said nothing. Instead, Brandir (he who had never played false with man, elf, dwarf, or beast) smiled and kissed her on the brow. "I wish you well, Niniel," he said with a counterfeit smile. "Any maiden would be proud to take Turambar to husband. The two of you will raise many strong children and be happy."

A cloud passed over Niniel's face when he mentioned children, and the self-same shadow brushed over Brandir's soul, but Niniel laughed her fear away. "Thank you, Brandir. You have ever been my dearest friend."

As he limped away, Brandir wondered what other lie he would tell, what other wrong he would do, for the sake of this maid. 

*~*~*

Brandir knew that Turambar would hear of this exchange, so he was not surprised to see the other man at his door that night. 

"Once before you slandered me to Niniel," his uninvited guest growled as he roughly shoved Brandir and forced his way inside. "For the debt I owe you, I permitted it. Did you truly believe I would suffer you to do so again?"

"Greetings, Turambar," Brandir said as blandly as possible. "Welcome to my house."

Turambar looked momentarily startled, as if he had never questioned his right to enter Brandir's home. He shook his head firmly and the glare in his eyes became less fierce than it had been a moment before. "Greetings, Brandir. I have a quarrel with you." 

Brandir raised an eyebrow, as if to suggest that he had no knowledge of any disagreement, and Turambar sighed. When he spoke again, there was a steely resolve in his voice, but no more anger. "You had no right to bring up my past to Niniel, Brandir. **No right**. Perhaps there was some justice in that last year when I asked for her hand, but not now. She knows me and loves me, even as I love her."

"Does she?" Turambar's eyes darkened again, and Brandir realized he had gone too far. "Yes, she loves you," he clarified quickly. "But does she truly know you? Know the youth that birthed the man you are today?"

"I'll not lie to you, Brandir. My past has not always been happy, nor have all my deeds been wise. The shadow that you fear is very real, but it is behind me. Perhaps you have heard that the Mormegil brought grief upon those he loved best; if so, you have probably heard only half the tale." Turambar looked at Brandir with such earnestness that the other man caught his breath. "But truly I say to you, I would never allow any harm to fall upon Niniel. Whatever curse follows this child of Hurin shall never fall upon her. I swear it."

"Swear not," Brandir cautioned him, "for no man can govern his future."

"True enough," Turambar conceded. "Perhaps I cannot swear to keep her safe forever. But will you take a different oath from me? I swear to you with everything I have that I do love her, and will until the day I die."

Brandir would have liked to disbelieve him, to have seen proof that Turambar was unworthy of Niniel's love... but he couldn't. The light in his eyes was too bright to be false. And yet, Brandir's love for the girl drove him still. "I know you do, Turambar, but didn't you love the elfin girl as well? The fierceness with which you guard her tomb tells me that you love her still, yet little benefit does she have from your love as she slumbers under the Haudh-en-Elleth."

"You have been misinformed, friend. I loved her as a dear friend, nothing more." Turin gave a crooked, complicated smile, and Brandir regretted his barb. "Had I been wiser, however, it might have been otherwise. I might have reached as high as Beren and sought her hand... but I loved war more.

"You still love war," Brandir observed. "Are you sure that you hold Niniel closer to your heart than your bloody mistress? She deserves that."

"Say not that I still love war, but rather that I hate orcs. In truth, I'm not sure that I ever loved war as much as I loved one of my comrades-in-arms." Turin smiled again, but the look in his eyes was now sad, rather than dangerous. "My friend Beleg has been dead for many years now but it took me many years to find peace with his death. At last, I have done so, and thus there is room aplenty in my heart for Niniel. And yes, she does have all of it."

Once again, Brandir read the truth in him. This time, he accepted it. "I wish you well, Turambar. Love her as well as you can, and I will be content."

"I'll love her enough for both of us, cousin." Brandir gazed at him in shock, as much by the other man's recognition of their kinship as by his knowledge of Brandir's heart.

"How did you...?"

Turambar said nothing, just raised his eyebrows and left. 

~*~*~

Mid-summer day dawned bright and beautiful that year, but the day was put to shame as soon as the bride made an appearance. Niniel wore a simple white dress, a crown of flowers in her hair, and a look of pure contentment on her countenance. Brandir wasn't the only man there to feel his heart break a little at seeing her wed another.

As the lord of Brethil, it fell to Brandir to marry the couple. He had dreaded this task for two months, but once it was time for them repeat their vows after him, he begrudged them no longer. It was not in him to be that petty.

After the vows, Turin took his bride by the hand and led her around the dance floor. Being unable to dance, Brandir watched them in wonder. Niniel was so happy. They both were. And even though he did not love Turambar half so well as he loved Niniel, he delighted to see the joy in both their faces. At that moment, Brandir decided to ignore the foreboding of his heart. Clearly he had mistaken jealousy for prescience; no love that pure could ever be wrong. The world was a better place for it and he needed to stand aside and admire it.

The End 

 


End file.
